The Cabin

Me and my mother got together and pitched ideas. We created a basic idea and simply wrote it
up. The poetry went through numerous critiques and it was interesting hearing her perspective
on things.

Celebration of Rachel Carson’s Sense of Wonder

It brought us closer to nature. We took inspiration from the trees and the birds, the rolling waves, the setting sun. The embodiment of the outdoors seeps throughout what we wrote. It really brought a green feeling upon both of us.

I have an inkling. This little bit of dust that lights the sky. One in one billion. One in three trillion. But who can put a price on a star. I can’t.

Light trickles and some may think it fickle to watch such a thing, but as it bounces from the ever green to my eye. How can I not be overcome? How is this not overdone?

Who can put a price on a start? A car passes by. Headlight colliding at frightening pace. It overshadows, but fades, as it leaves, starlight remains.

Who can put a price on a star? Not I.

Surveying my scene, a tent protrudes from the ground to meet me. I caress my hand over the fabric. A zipper unzips. There she stands now, in embrace of the stars. She’s the one I’ve searched for, longed for and she’s finally with me here.

We dance. The trees a roof over our heads, and laughter rolling through the blue woods. Her dress spiraling in the breeze and our faces so close. Starlight.
She turns to dust in my fingers. The laughter no longer rolls, and I’m simply left with the memories. But yet I still search, for the girl made of starlight.

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